Silent Prayers in the Night
by gaia09
Summary: And so, he offered prayers that night. So when the child of the morning, rosy-fingered Dawn would appear on the day his son would set off, he knew he had done the right thing. FATHER-SON STORY


A/N: Hey guys! I'm back! Well, if you remember me, I spent my first time on as a Golden Sun author (which I was heavily addicted to back then). Anyway, five years have passed tah-dah! I'm back! So yeah, I'm in my writing mood today... and thankfully, my returned heavy-addiction plus the newest information released about Golden Sun DS (now Golden Sun: Dark Dawn), I might say that I will be making more than one oneshots this day.

I'm supposed to be studying, though... xD But oh well :D. To the story?

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As silently as he could, he gingerly climbed up the wooden staircase. The lights were now dimmed upstairs with the only source of bright light coming from downstairs. Outside, darkness cascaded the now-quiet town as the light-sounding chirps of the grasshoppers could only be heard. The moon shone down its only gift as the stars did its best to out-shine each opponent it had. Houses started to close and lights clicked off.

He smiled as he clutched a little tighter onto the little boy he was carrying. He could hear light and barely audible snores coming out of him. He reached the top of the staircase and quietly walked into the first door to the right. His left hand supported the sleeping boy on the legs while the right rested on his back. Upon reaching the door, he used his right to open it.

The door creaked. He slowed down a little to prevent the sleeping boy into waking up. Then, he walked to the end of the room where a bed rested under a window, where little moonlight shone through. His boots sounded lightly on the floor with thuds so soft that it was quiet.

The boy in his arms stirred as he changed one cheek with the other on the older man's shoulder. His messy yellow hair shuffled near the man's cheek as the man smiled softly. As the little boy adjusted himself, he let out a soft exhale then snuggled onto his dad's shoulder.

He reached the bed and bent down a little to open the blue covers. He patted the soft white pillow lightly. After doing so, he held his son's yellow bush of a hair while his other hand still supported the lower part of the boy's body. Slowly but carefully, he finally laid the boy's smaller head then his small body as the boy stirred a little but remained undisturbed.

The man quietly pulled a wooden stool closer to the bed and gingerly took the right leg of his son. He laid the foot on his knee and began to fumble the laces of his son's brown boot. He didn't bother to buy him a slip-on boot for he knew, though passive, that in one way or another he would manage to slip-out of the boot. Instead, he bought a boot with laces which would serve for now.

He finally managed to untie the laces and began to work on the other boot. After several finger-lacing fumbling, he successfully untied the other and slipped both boots off of the boy's little feet. He settled them on the floor while he fixed his son's position. He reached for the blue blanket and covered the smaller boy with it.

After all that work, he rested back on his stool and looked at the little boy. Nothing slipped out of his lips as a never-ending smile plastered on his face.

Such a young age, he thought. But he wouldn't remain the same sooner or later. He knew he didn't. As much as he wanted to stay as a teenager of fourteen or seventeen, he knew couldn't. Times change. _They_ changed. Years proved it. Time couldn't be stopped (well, he could but just temporarily).

He could now feel what his parents had been feeling for the past years. Looking at his child sleeping peacefully at the end of the day reminded him of his parents going dramatic at how he was growing up. _'Oh Isaac! Look at how much you've grown!'_ his mother said to him. Moments later, he would find his mother burying her face into her hands, sounds of utter sadness would come out muffled. He thought she was dramatic. So he would just roll his eyes then smile carelessly and say something like: '_Mom, I'm only seventeen. I'm still young._' But her mom would just cry harder.

Was she just too sensitive? Or was he just being too insensitive?

Then, his dad would say something along the lines: '_Isaac, you're growing up too fast. Maybe next thing we know you'll be marrying._' Then he would find his dad inching towards him then laying his hands on his shoulders. '_It was just like yesterday when you were in diapers..._' dad would follow then sooner, he would find his dad sporting on a melancholic smile. Ironic enough, that was a week before his marriage.

He pondered silently for a while. He looked at his own boots and fidgeted like he was a child.

Maybe he was just dense.

But now, his eyes opened at the reality playing before him. He looked up and saw his son, sleeping silently and soundly. How could he have been so dense?

Now he knew. He knew how his parents felt. They had missed the times when he, himself, was a young boy, going about the twists and turns of Vale and getting into trouble in class. They had missed the times when he would often show signs of affection towards his parents just by giving them good night kisses or milk-covered smothers on the cheek. They had missed taking care of a silent yet weirdly notorious boy who would just know (and get into) other's businesses for naught. They had missed being proud of their little boy who always showed kindness to others (now they were proud that he was one of the world's hero).

He could also see himself in his son. Not only his features proved it but his sense of adventure too. And one day, he, too, knew that his son would set himself into journeys that would last days... months... or years for his little boy was very much like himself.

And so, he offered prayers that night. Silent prayers that flew into the heavens and deplored their Gods to take care of his little boy that would soon grow into a fine young man. So when the child of the morning, rosy-fingered Dawn would appear(1) on the day his son would set off, he knew he had done the right thing.

He stood up, and caressed his son's smaller hand and planted a kiss on the boy's cheek. "Good night, Matthew," Isaac whispered lovingly into his son's ear.

_end_

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(1) "...when the child of the morning, rosy-fingered Dawn would appear..." taken from The Odyssey by Homer

A/N: I'm not much into the whole "GS DD first fan fic race" so I don't really care if this fic was the first DD fic (which I highly doubt because I have read two DD fanfictions already) or last. So yeah. I just hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Review please and tell me how I fare. I know I need room for improvement!


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